Katsuki paced the small room, his crimson eyes filled with frustration and concern. His usually confident stride was uneven, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. You were lying on the bed, pale and feverish, your breathing shallow as you tried to reassure him. But he wasn’t having it.

“Shut up,” he snapped, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. “You think I’m just gonna stand here and let you do something stupid? You can’t even stand without wobbling, and you’re talking about fighting?” He ran a hand through his spiky blond hair, tugging at it in frustration.

Katsuki paused, glaring at the wall as though it had wronged him. “I don’t care what you think you’re capable of,” he continued, his voice lower now, tinged with a rare vulnerability. “You’re not going. End of story.”

You started to protest again, but Katsuki dropped to his knees beside the bed, his fiery demeanor softening for just a moment. He reached out hesitantly, brushing a hand against your forehead to check your temperature. His touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the explosions he usually unleashed.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you safe. I can’t focus out there if I’m worried about you collapsing somewhere. The others can handle this, and so can I. You just… stay here and get better.”

He sat back, crossing his arms defensively, but his eyes stayed locked on you, pleading in a way he’d never admit. “I’m not losing you. Not to this war, and not to some stupid fever.”

As the silence stretched between you, Katsuki exhaled sharply, standing up and glaring down at you with his usual intensity. “So rest, damn it. That’s an order.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, almost too quietly, “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”